My summer vacation June 26, 2011
Posted by Leah in Gallimaufry, Repeated hookups.5 comments
Since my last post, I have spent a night at Gi’s and a night at Amadeo’s. I didn’t blog because the work cycle has been heavy; quite simply, with deadlines looming, I haven’t had the time.
This evening, I am flying somewhere warmer and less wet than London for a conference. I will be there for a week. After that, I will bum around Europe for two and a half weeks. My sister is joining for part of this adventure. Internet access may be dubious. I expect that I will not expend the effort to stay connected during my holiday.
Till I get back: Be good. Be bad. Have fun! I know I will.
The phone booth June 18, 2011
Posted by Leah in D/s, Exhibitionism, Fucking, Public, Repeated hookups.10 comments
After a particularly intense workout at the gym, I had changed into a black and white striped sweater top that bared my shoulders and a khaki skirt that lifted indecently from my rear whenever I bent forward at the waist. I met Amadeo at a pub in Holborn. He discovered I had come commando when I flashed him at the bar. I had not worn a bra either. The weather was chilly enough in mid-June that my nipples peaked.
At the restaurant, I sat slightly further from the table than strictly necessary, with knees separated and feet planted apart. The fabric bowed, the dip of the cloth draping over the middle and covering me (just). During the meal — sushi — I kept my legs together and behaved. The napkin, which extended over my thighs, enhanced my modesty by a factor of two.
Amadeo told me about his recent visits to Germany. I told him about what I have been working on at the university, my plans for the rest of the summer, and how the thesis clock would tick relentlessly once I returned to Boston in September.
After dinner, Amadeo ordered an espresso. I had a caffè latte. As there wasn’t a need for the napkin anymore, it sat in a crumple upon the table. Pushing myself back half a foot, I hiked the skirt up my thigh and showed my stuff underneath.
Amadeo smiled appreciatively at the view. The tip of his tongue slowly traversed from one corner of the lip to the other and made the amble in reverse. I licked a bit of cream lasciviously from my finger.
He held me by the waist, one step in front of him, as we descended the escalator into the belly of the tube. The tug on the fabric pulled the top down the left shoulder. The drape of the cloth accentuated my cleavage. Amadeo deposited small kisses on the trapezius muscle. I was moist below.
On the train, he sat on the ledge near the door at the end of the car. His arms wrapped me from behind and he laced his fingers over my pelvis. I reached behind me to grip his hip. My knees bent a fraction as I pushed my weight against him. My feet held my backpack in place.
Amadeo took his cell phone from his pocket and took a snapshot of us, together. The flash from the second photograph went under the ledge the bottom of my skirt made across the tops of my thighs. I laughed when he took this picture and felt myself getting wetter.
We took the long way to his apartment. Amadeo shouldered my backpack. We clasped hands. His enormous paw covered my small fingers.
In a dark shadow under the trees, I spied a man peeing. I nudged Amadeo with an elbow to the ribs and nodded my head at the unknown man.
Amadeo stopped, and he considered. “Not today,” he decided, which was a pity.
We walked south. Victorian houses lined the street on either side. Their facades stretched a city block. About half the windows were lit. Silence sheltered the road. A few streets away, cars rumbled on the still busy main thoroughfare.
I raised to the points of my toes and placed a kiss on Amadeo’s cheek. He cupped my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips. As the kiss deepened, I brought his hand up to a breast. His fingers tightened. He extended their reach. Lured by his taste, my tongue followed his into his mouth. The kiss broke because one of us moved our head in an unanticipated direction. We laughed and re-engaged. I sucked on his tongue, latching on to the tip with teeth to forestall him taking it away. Amadeo palmed my buttocks, one cheek in each of his big hands.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he stated. His voice had a growl. He rubbed me between the legs.
I spotted a red phone booth on the corner of the street. “In there,” I pointed.
The box was a tight squeeze. We stood back to front with the phone on our left. I told Amadeo that I had condoms in the side packet of my backpack. He unzipped and covered his cock. I pushed my hands off the paneled glass and thrust my ass at him. Amadeo prised my legs further apart and entered me from behind. I was so wet that his penis slid all the way in at once.
He fucked me in that constricted space. The cock was like the piston of a steam engine, a single cylinder moving in a two stroke cycle. In and out, in and out, it went. My cunt, greased by arousal, provided the lubrication for the shaft. He accelerated to a pace that worked. After that, the speed didn’t change. Instead of going faster, he went harder. Amadeo held my hips and slammed his cock home. The balls clapped against my buttocks. Their impact echoed in the booth.
I saw my reflection in the glass. My face scrunched up in lines with the effort of fucking. My moans had volume. He matched them with his grunts.
Amadeo pulled the sweater down my shoulder to expose one of my breasts. Shoving me against the wall of the phone booth, he flattened the tit against glass. The surface felt cold to my bare skin. It made me shiver.
A sharp tug of the hair forced my head backward. He bit my bottom lip. My nails broke the skin on his forearm. The end of his belt slapped against my thigh.
His fingers gathered the wetness from my pussy. He pressed them into my mouth.
There were lights in the building. I wondered if anyone saw us. I hoped so.
“Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me.” The words were my mantra.
My hand reached behind me. The grip on his ass encouraged his movements. Amadeo was deliberate to allow me to come first. My wetness splashed onto the backpack situated on the floor of the booth. He stopped moving while my vagina contracted about the shaft. He grunted at the achievement of holding his orgasm back as my muscles constricted. Head thrown back, I laughed like a madwoman.
He started moving again when I told him to fuck me.
I started chanting, this time punctuating the premise that he should fuck me with the demand that he must do it harder.
Not a minute after my orgasm, his arms wrapped my waist, and he lifted me up. My feet were suspended in midair. His shaft plugged me impossibly deep. Shrieking, I clamped myself about the penis as it convulsed inside me.
His jolts went on and on in a sequence of hard pulses. His hand gripped the tit that was still partially exposed. My legs kicked in the air as he tightened his hold on me. “Slut,” he intoned.
Yes, I am.
When he set me down, I sagged against the side of the phone booth. The air stunk of sex. My makeup and hair were disasters. I needed to pee.
I heard the zip of his belt and the metallic ring of his belt buckle. I smoothed the skirt to cover myself. Turning, I spread my arms to embrace him. We kissed, and while my arms circled his neck, he lifted me up once more.
We were three blocks from his apartment. I walked there on unsteady legs.
Movie night June 10, 2011
Posted by Leah in Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.10 comments
His arm extended behind me along the sofa back. I huddled into the crook of his shoulder, and we snuggled during the movie. Afterwards, with my head pillowed on his lap, he stroked my throat and neck and collar, as though petting a favorite cat. I tilted my chin up and rolled my head to the side. I purred.
“What do you want to do?”
Gi shifted his hand lower. He held a breast. The answering hum was noncommittal.
“Do you want to be in my pussy? I haven’t fucked anyone in a week. It will be a tight squeeze.” I slid the plane of my palm over his penis. My lips deposited a peck through his pants. “Would you like me to go down on my knees and take your cock in my mouth? I will suck you for an hour. I will suck you until you come.” The erection grew under my touch. “Do you want to try my asshole? You haven’t.” I squeezed the cock, released, and repeated. “Tell me what you want.”
Gi stood and loosened his belt. He hopped around on one foot ridiculously while he extricated the pant leg from where it tangled with his other foot.
“I want you to suck my cock,” he decided. He sunk into the sofa, pulled off his shirt, and spread his legs open for me. I smiled and occupied the space that he had made.
Gi still hasn’t been in my anus, but he fucked me good.
A taste of girl June 9, 2011
Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Random hookups, Sapphic.8 comments
My running partner is lesbian. Following a run, when we are both sweaty and in possession of an elated ache, I have often remarked that I want to gobble her up. After eight miles this weekend, at a café, Alice called me on my bluster. I had an appointment, so we couldn’t play then, but, after emphasizing that this would be a one night stand only, I agreed to meet her in the evening at her place.
She is femme. When I arrived, she wore a white tank top and a denim skirt each of which left precious little to the imagination. I had on a summer dress, but was wildly overdressed for the occasion. It was awkward to start. We had glasses of wine and made uncertain conversation. It took me an effort to stare at her eyes instead of her legs. That she kept them apart simplified the task in no way.
Outside, it began to rain. The typical British drizzle transformed into a sudden squall. We stood on the balcony and watched the sky spill.
Alice pushed off the railing and kicked her feet off the ground. Her calves and her thighs had been sculpted with an artist’s care. The skin was smooth and unblemished. The muscles stood out in relief. I noticed the florescent green of her underwear.
I went to my knees behind her. I caught her right ankle as she lowered her other foot. Slipping off the flip-flops, I licked along the Achilles tendon. I kissed to the back of her knee and set her foot down again. My hands smoothed over the backs of her legs. I reached up into her skirt and felt the soft flesh of her buttocks and the powerful muscles underneath. The thong, thankfully, left her cheeks exposed. Tiny goosebumps appeared like archipelagos on her thighs. I kneaded her. I needed her.
I stood and she turned and we kissed. Her tongue played softly against mine. Eyes closed, our noses bumped. She took her glasses off and set them on a small table.
Raindrops splashed off the railing and the balustrade. I felt them on my bare arms.
I turned and sunk to the ground so that I squatted against the wall, which supported my back. Alice clutched the railing and leaned her body over me. She flipped up the minuscule skirt, and I peeled the panties from her legs. She kept her pussy trimmed. I had seen it in the shower at the gym before. But I had never looked at it as closely as I did now. Her lips were small. The pudenda were twin hills that folded over the tiny labia between them. The clit hid at top. Alice was visibly moist. I smiled in the knowledge that I had made her so. I brought my nose to her pubis and inhaled the intoxicating aroma of a woman. She smelled of cut flowers. I hoped that I smelled so clean.
My hands went to the tops of her thighs and coaxed her legs apart while I rubbed my nose from side to side through her tuft of hair. Extending my tongue, I licked along the slit. She tasted a bit salty, a bit sweet, and so very savory.
I took time licking over the little hillocks of pubis. The tiny hairs rasped against my tongue. I breathed in deep draughts of her smells. My lips made a seal on either side of hers, and I sucked in air through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. I warbled my lips and flapped my tongue at the gate. The knocks announced my intent.
Fingers prised open her labia. The dark pink of the flesh shined with her arousal. I lapped at the inside of her folds, but didn’t stretch my tongue into the opening. I studiously avoided the clitoris.
My hands held her buttocks and tilted her groin toward me. Alice lowered her pelvis to my mouth. I responded with a tease, turning my head to the side, maneuvering away to lick at her thigh in place of the cunt. She nudged her pussy at my cheek, and when I didn’t react as she hoped, she pouted. I took my time anyway. My hands soothed up and down the fronts of her thighs. Her skin was so smooth.
I tongued the raindrops that beaded on the skin.
My arm stretched up. I squeezed her tits through the thin top. Then I lowered the arms and used my hand to rub the outside of her cunt. The surrounding flesh shook. The skin was darker than before. The odors were stronger. She was wetter. She tasted more robust — ferric, I would say.
I crooked two fingers up and pressed their backs against the folds of Alice’s cunt. Her moans were soft and high-pitched. She sounded like she was sniffling.
“Place me inside,” I said. I offered my hand.
She took my wrist and brought the fingers to her opening. Legs bowing at the knees, she lowered herself onto my hand. Once within, I straightened the fingers and scissored them apart. I rotated the base of the hand and felt the slickness of her muscles. Her pussy squelched around me. I rubbed my own cunt through the layers of cloth.
My fingers fucked in and out rapidly. The knuckles of the hand became drenched in the waters that escaped her pussy. In the intervals between vigorous, rapid thrusts, I lapped her clitoris.
I have little conception of how long this continued. I was content to lean my head against the wall and lick forever. The rain stopped, and still I mouthed the pussy. My effort ended in Alice’s orgasm. Her body went entirely stiff. Her thighs squeezed my face. She rutted against my chin and let out an expressive moan. The muscles in her thighs went rigid. The muscles in her vagina contracted about my fingers. The wetness sluiced in the narrow gap between them as the walls caved in.
She tasted exquisite. There was a lightness to her come, an aftertaste almost like fruit. I licked it from my fingers. She collapsed to the ground and tasted herself from my lips. After this, it was my turn to receive. Alice raised my dress. She was a cannibal on my cunt. Her eyes glinted as she ate. I wasn’t as quiet as she was. Legs spread apart on the floor of her balcony, I wailed and screamed.
Official date June 4, 2011
Posted by Leah in Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups.2 comments
Gi and I went on an official date last night. In my experience having previously slept together makes a date go smoother. There is no question of how the night will end. The pressure to perform is off, and we can enjoy each other’s company.
We started in a wine bar and then went to dinner. After we had eaten dessert and lingered over coffee, we meandered the streets of the city to his place, where I spent the night.
Gi was less talkative than I remembered. Often, I had to carry the conversation. Politically and socially, our worldviews differ, so we engaged on these topics. He seems remarkably incurious about subjects he doesn’t already know well.
We messed around for a couple of hours, fell asleep, and fucked some more in the morning. If memory serves, the night went something like the following: lots of pussy eating and fingering, sixty-nine (me on top), missionary position, riding cock facing Gi, his orgasm, cocksucking to revive the erection, doggy style on the bed, which creaked under our combined weight, orgasm, orgasm, orgasm, orgasm (mine, mine, mine, his). In the morning, Gi spooned against my back and fucked me from behind. He sat on the edge of the mattress. Facing away, I settled his penis into my cunt, and feet kicking off his thighs, bounced myself over him. He stood behind me. I had one knee dug into the mattress and spread myself open by planting the other foot far apart. He held my hips and pounded into me. When we finished, he rolled on top. He fisted my hair as we kissed, sloppy and deep.
Things that were in my cunt yesterday June 2, 2011
Posted by Leah in Bondage, Buggery, Cunnilingus, D/s, Fellatio, Fucking, Repeated hookups, Spanking, Urine.3 comments
Ben Wa balls: I slipped them into my pussy after lunch. They shifted and teased me throughout the day. During spare moments, I compressed my muscles to give the pelvic floor a workout. I stood on the Jubilee line to Amadeo’s place. The spheres jostled as the train accelerated and decelerated. Amadeo discovered the Ben Wa balls and extracted them from my cunt when he stripped me down after dinner.
A pestle: Since he had cooked, I did the dishes after the meal. Once naked, I wore his belt around my neck. Amadeo had me sit on the counter, drew my legs apart, and spun into my cunt the ceramic pestle I had washed. He had earlier used it to crush spices. The texture was grainy and rough. I liked its coarseness against my labial folds.
Ice: Amadeo placed two ice cubes into my pussy. My body squirmed and my legs wriggled. He forcibly held my thighs open as he diddled my clit. The heat inside melted the water, which he drank from me as he licked.
His tongue and his spit: Obviously.
Two clothespins: In the bedroom, Amadeo arranged clothespins in spirals about my areolae. The way they stuck out reminded me of the quills of a porcupine. Stronger metal clips with teeth attached to each of the nipples. He secured the clothespins that were left over from his set of two dozen to my underarms and my navel. One peg of the clothespin on each side of the pussy entered my cunt. He used the pincers to tug my lips apart and licked the fissure in between.
Three fingers: When he fingered me, he shoved the three central fingers of his right hand into my cunt. He stabbed them in and out with ferocity until I came. After the orgasm, I lapped my juices from his hand. It was only when I had done this to his satisfaction that he removed the clamps from my nipples. They were sensitive and raw to the touch of fingers and lips. The rush of blood inside made the nerve endings throb.
A steel dildo: It is our favorite toy. I enjoyed having its heft inside, the way it compelled my pussy to stretch, how Amadeo curled it. He nudged it against the G-spot and the anterior fornix deeper inside.
The metal buckle of his belt: Just because.
The middle of the belt: Amadeo folded the leather over in half. He wet it in my pussy and used it to lash my buttocks. I gripped the headboard while he whipped me.
A vibrating egg: While I sucked his cock, the egg buzzed inside my vagina. It had a remote control. Amadeo made me moan around his penis each time he ramped the setting higher. At full power, the constant whirr made my muscles thrum. The egg remained in my pussy while Amadeo’s lubed up cock occupied my anus. At the end of this round, I laid on my belly, pubis rutting against a pillow. The vibrator purred over the G-spot while Amadeo prised my cheeks apart and pounded my asshole. The belt looped about my wrists. Arms bound behind my back, he hauled my body onto his prick.
Urine: Actually, this took place in the morning. Before we showered, Amadeo had me lie down in the bottom of the tub. He stood on the sides, his spread open legs directly over my head so that I could look up at the split of his muscular ass and the balls swinging above. He pissed, directing the flow at the cunt lips, which I peeled open for him. A quarter hour later, he came over my face. My index finger applied pressure to his prostate to enhance the sensations he experienced.
Amadeo’s cock: Of course.
How to dom me more than once June 1, 2011
Posted by Leah in D/s.8 comments
I am intelligent. I am industrious. I am competitive. I am ambitious. I am opinionated. I am feminist. I am feminine.
I am also submissive.
I like a man to take control during sex. I like that he uses me as his fuck-toy. I like being overpowered physically. I like the way he insists on having sex as he engineers it. I like the names he calls me. I like when he is rough with my body. I like pain and have a reasonable tolerance for it. I like how he applies his creativity and intellect to render me an instrument for his pleasure.
These are aspects of one persona (mine).
Most of the sex I have these days transpires in the context of no strings encounters, often with men I meet on the internet. It is easy for a woman in her mid-twenties to find sex in an urban and cosmopolitan environment, and I have one night stands as a consequence of various chance meetings, but the fact is that I seek kink in order to sate the emotional and inner yearnings at my core. While I indulge my appetites with frequency, very few of my partners end up achieving fuck buddy status. This is not by design.
I like having regular play partners for the simple reason that by virtue of friendship and familiarity with each other’s bodies and desires, the experience of sex becomes heightened for both of us. Rarely, however, do I spend more than one night with a man. It is difficult for me to find people I like well enough and with whom I have sufficient chemistry that a friends with benefits arrangement becomes conceivable. The added constraint of having a similar philosophy regarding domination and submission complicates matters.
I have a checklist for what I look for in a regular. I need to have fun in his company. I need him to treat me as an equal in the non-sexual context. I need him to fuck well, paying attention to my orgasms in addition to his own. I need him to be mindful of my limits as he pushes me. I need him to treat me as an equal participant in the kink. I need him to make me feel safe while I am challenged physically and submerged in submissive mental spaces. I need him to conduct a seamless transition from camaraderie to carnality. I need him to respect me — before, during, and after the play.
It is the rare man who can do all of these things for me. I might have a nice date with a guy, go to bed with him, play hard, and then discover an unevenness in how we interact afterwards. The laughter isn’t as free. The second date has a tension to it. Having treated me once as his slut and his bitch, he no longer regards me as an independent personality. He attempts to assert his dominance within a quotidian context, where power games are inapposite. A boundary has been crossed. Much of this may not happen in any overt manner. But it’s the vibe I get. It’s a subcutaneous sensation intuited from how we communicate. He fails to appreciate that my submission arises from my volition rather than his will. I no longer trust him sufficiently to place myself in his power. Under the circumstances, we won’t have sex again. A relationship can’t develop.
Possibly, I am misinterpreting his intentions. Possibly, I am being unfair in my judgments. It isn’t about fairness though. I can only rely on my instincts. And my instincts tell me that we have exhausted our potential the first time and that I should look for someone new.
The dominant men who successfully get me into bed a second time and ultimately become regular play partners have the ability to compartmentalize. They recognize that submission and kink exist only within a particular context. Both when we are having sex and when we are not, they exhibit respect for me as a person. The friendship extends to both places. I am tied up, he pours hot wax over my breasts, and next spanks my cunt until I cry. When we have a glass of wine after sex, he laughs at the joke I make at his expense. He uses the flow of his urine to wash his semen from my face, and then, following the shower, he towels me off with infinite tenderness and care. We go to a concert together, and I buy dinner because it’s my turn.
He is dominant. I am submissive. But I never feel that he is my better or that I am his inferior.
Leah Lays London 